Classic Poem

Condemn me not, I make so much ado
About this book; it is my child, you know.
Just like a bird, when her young are in nest,
Goes in, and out, and hops, and takes no rest:
But when their young are fledg'd, their heads out-peep,
Lord! What a chirping does the old one keep!
So I, for fear my strengthless child should fall
Against a door, or stool, aloud I call;
Bid have a care of such a dangerous place:
Thus write I much, to hinder all disgrace.